The British Connection
by The cat who got the cream
Summary: Two British werewolves arrive in Beacon Hills and begin to implement their insidious agenda to exact revenge. Meanwhile, Scott and Co find themselves caught in a cross fire between a group of hunters and two vengeful siblings.


The British Are Coming

Marina Gerard's black sedan jolts to a stop next to a vacant gas pump. Her snoozing brother, Eichen, is forced forward towards the passenger side dashboard. His eyes widen as the seatbelt cradles him, bringing his head to stop a few inches from the hard panel. He snaps back into his seat.

"Damn it, Marina!" Eichen presses a hand across his chest, glaring at his sister. She stares at him.

"Wakey-wakey, brother dearest." Marina smiles, fluttering her eyelashes. Eichen grimaces. "You said, you would take over driving at two. It is now ten past three." Marina asserts, angrily. "Get out, fill the tank and take the wheel." Marina snaps her seat belt off and swings the door open. Eichen rolls his eyes and climbs out.

"What's got your goat?" Eichen looks over the car to Marina, who is now climbing into the backseat. As Eichen rolls his eyes again, a gas station attendant dressed in a red cap and oily overalls, strolls over.

"Hey, can I help you there?" He smiles, welcomingly, at Eichen.

"Oh, yes thanks." Eichen politely smiles back. "Diesel, fill it up, please." Eichen rests an arm on the top of the car. The attendant squeezes the trigger of the pump, it begins to hum.

"So, from your accent I'd say you guys were British, right?" The attendant peers over his shoulder at Eichen, who nods confirmatively.

"Yep, my sister and I came out here to look up a few… old family friends." Eichen replies in his RP accent.

"Wow, way out here in Beacon Hills. Go figure." The attendant clonks the pump back into its stand. He peers at the display to check the price.

"Thirty-eight dollars." With his hands in his pockets he turns to Eichen, who hands him a fifty.

"Keep the change." Eichen smiles. The attendant sharply removes his hands from his pockets.

"Oh, thanks. You need anything else doing?" He nods to the hood of the car.

"No, but thank you. I didn't realise there were any full service gas stations left." As Eichen speaks, Marina's face appears at the back window of the car, looking eager to leave.

"Well, it's not in the job description, but I'll be honest, you out-of-towners are keeping me in business. Everyone in town uses the gas station there." The attendant nods forlornly. Marina knocks three times on the window. Eichen nods to her, then smiles at the attendant.

"Thank you, but we really must go." Eichen turns and paces around the car to the driver's side. He climbs back in. As he starts the engine, the attendant taps the top of the car with a hollow clonk.

"Have a safe trip." He waves. As Eichen pulls off along the deserted road, winding through a lush forest, he peers into his rear view mirror.

"Beacon Hills. We're getting close." He nods. Marina's eyes narrow. With a stern expression, she nods menacingly.

"Pedal to the metal." She closes her eyes and sinks back into the plush leather seats.

With the daylight outside slowly waning, Stiles and his father sit at a small circular table at the town Starbucks Coffee, watching the sunset over a horizon formed by a lush canopy of trees in the distance. Stiles pinches one eye shut, he examines the viewing lens of a large black camera with the other. Using the camera he zooms into the lacquered surface of the table. His father frowns, disapprovingly.

"Stiles, that is a highly sensitive piece of police equipment, would you quit playing with it." As the sheriff continues to frown, Stiles replies.

"You know, with this wide lens, I can almost make out the salmonella swimming around on this table." He leans in closer, the peak of the lens just touches the table. The sheriff angrily pulls the camera up from the table.

"Stiles, be careful." The sheriff glares at him. Stiles sheepishly places the camera down on the table. The sheriff nods approvingly, he turns his attention to the sunset. Stiles glances at him briefly and gently lifts the camera.

"You know, we don't do this enough." Stiles father shakes his head. Stiles pauses.

"Don't do what enough? Drink coffee?" Stiles raises an eyebrow, questioningly.

"No, I mean, just sit and shoot the breeze." The sheriff takes a sip of coffee. Stiles rolls his eyes, looking up to the bell above the entrance. It shakes, emitting a high pitched ring. Two tall slender figures stand in the door frame: a man wearing a mid-length black trench coat and slim fitting khaki pants; a woman wearing a light pink trench coat and black suede boots. She ruffles her platinum blonde hair. Marina and Eichen step over the threshold. Stiles watches them walk to the counter, side-by-side, before glancing back to his father. Behind the counter, a barista pushes a button causing a plume of steam to rise into the air. Marina looks up and around the coffee shop.

"So it's true what they say." She looks to a bemused Eichen. "Starbucks are taking over the world." Eichen rolls his eyes, as they move to the front of the queue, he smiles at the barista.

"Frappuccino and a black coffee, to go, thanks." Eichen nods. Marina giggles. Eichen looks across at her, he frowns.

"What?" Eichen questions. Marina smiles at him.

"Frappuccino. Such a diva." Marina shakes her head, smiling. Eichen looks forward, sternly.

"What? There is nothing pretentious about iced coffee beverages." Eichen replies. The barista places a plastic cup and a coffee cup on the counter, both displaying the mermaid emblem of Starbucks Coffee. Eichen begins to gulp down his coffee-cream mix through a straw, he places a the payment on the counter. As the pair turn to leave, the sheriff's uniform catches Marina's eye.

"Oh, look, there's a police officer. Let's ask him." Marina turns to Eichen, who shrugs. They walk over to the sheriff's table, standing next to Stiles.

"Sorry to interrupt." Marina smiles, as the sheriff turns to look at her. "We're on holiday, just passing through and were wondering if you could give us directions to the nearest hotel?"

"Yeah, sure." The sheriff nods, he sits up. "If you turn right out of the door, then take the first right, follow the road for a few miles, there's a motel on the left." The sheriff gesticulates with each instruction. As he does so, Stiles snaps a picture of Marina and Eichen. Noticing the click of the camera, Marina and Eichen glance at each other. Marina smiles.

"Thank you sheriff…"

"Stilinski." The sheriff rises to his feet and shakes Marina's and Eichen's hands. "Have a nice trip." He smiles. As they exit, Stiles looks down at the digital display of the camera, a photograph flickers onto the screen. Stiles hums, curiously. The sheriff frowns, he takes the camera from Stiles.

"What did you do to this thing?" The annoyed sheriff inspects the picture. A whitewash effect obscures the faces in top left corner of the photograph, leaving only the pocket of Eichen's trench coat exposed in the bottom right. An apprehensive Stiles looks up at the sheriff.

"Dad, I don't think it's the camera."

Eichen purses his lips around the straw of his coffee, as he and Marina pace down the sidewalk. They stare forward determinedly.

"Do you think he would've noticed?" She questions. Eichen finishes his gulp. He releases the straw and allows it to sink slightly, into the thick beverage.

"Even if he did…" He looks over at Marina and shrugs. "What does it matter?"

A few miles west, as the crow flies, Scott leans against a cold metal counter in the Beacon Hills animal clinic: a phone pressed to his ear.

"Werewolves?" Scott straightens up as he says the word. Stiles' exasperated voice sounds from the phone.

"Yeah, I took a picture of two people, in the coffee shop. Their eyes, Scott." Stiles explains. Scott nods knowingly.

"Alright. Do you know where they went?"

"Yeah. I'm standing outside of their motel right now."

"What? Stiles?" Scott questions, alertly. "Did you follow them? What if they saw you?"

"Relax okay, they didn't see me." Stiles explains, sheepishly. Scott snatches a set of keys from a desk nearby.

"Where are you?" Scott makes for the door.

"Um, a motel on the edge of town. Near the exit to state route seventy."

"I'll come and find you." Scott hangs up as her rushes through reception. As Scott reaches the exit, he pauses, turning on his heel. Deaton watches him, questioningly, from behind the reception desk. Scott opens his mouth to speak.

"It must be important for you to rush out like this. Don't worry, go." Deaton gestures to the door, he nods understandingly. Scott nods back and exits. Outside, Scott snaps the visor down on his black helmet and throws a leg over his dirt bike, with neon green mud guards. The bike growls to life and Scott pulls off and races down the deserted street.

The daylight has faded to twilight as Scott jolts to a stop next to Stiles' blue jeep. He kicks the bike stand down and hangs his helmet on the handle. He walks around the jeep to meet Stiles on the other side.

"Hey." Stiles nods, watching the motel, intently.

"Hey." Scott replies, he glances around the motel forecourt. "So, where are they?"

"Rooms twenty three and twenty four." Stiles nods to rooms on the upper floor of the motel. Meanwhile, Eichen watches Scott and Stiles from behind white voile drapes. A phone in his pocket vibrates. He glances at the screen before holding it up to his ear.

"I told you, he'd notice." His sister's voice sounds over the phone.

"Sweetie, you are less than ten feet away, just open the adjoining door and talk to me." Eichen hangs up, irritably, as his sister walks in and stands at his side.

"So, do you think they're the hunters we're looking for?" She questions, still clutching her phone. She hangs up as Eichen looks at her disapprovingly. She giggles.

"I don't know. I would think hunters would be more discrete." Eichen pauses, he looks back out to Scott and Stiles. "We'll soon find out. First, let's find the hunters we tracked here. Then go from there." Eichen continues to watch.

"If they are hunters, they'll probably regroup with reinforcements." Marina remarks. She pauses. "Shall we follow them? Discretely." She smiles.

"So what do we do?" Watching the still motel rooms, Stiles questions.

"I don't know. Do we need to do anything?" Scott replies.

"Well, considering the last pack of werewolves that passed through town were evil alphas." Stiles stresses.

"But we don't know that they're evil, or alphas… And I wouldn't call two werewolves a pack." Scott remarks.

"Okay, so what do you suggest?" Stiles looks at Scott, expectantly.

"Let's go see, Derek, first." Scott nods. "And anyway, if they wanna cause trouble, they'll probably come and find us."

"Trouble usually does." Stiles sighs. "I'll see you at Derek's loft." Stiles walks back around his jeep as Scott straps on his helmet. As they pull off the parking lot, Marina's car pulls around the side of the motel.

"See, I told you I could fit through that window frame." Smiling, Eichen presses his hands against his narrow hips. "The trick is, to keep one car between theirs and ours." Eichen remarks as Marina allows her car to roll across the sidewalk. Marina watches a silver sedan race past, before pulling off of the sidewalk and along the road after Stiles' blue jeep. Marina glances to Eichen.

"Do you have them?" She questions. Slowly, Eichen retrieves a small black reticule from his trench coat pocket. He holds it up for Marina to see. "Good."

As the waxing gibbous rises into the starry night sky Marina and Eichen walk up to Stiles' vacant jeep, parked on an open plain in front of Derek's loft.

"Oh, this is them." Eichen nods. "I'd recognise this hideous juggernaut anywhere." He gestures to the jeep. Marina looks around at the tall, industrial chic, high-rise. She raises an eyebrow.

"Looks… functional enough to be a hunters base of operations." She remarks. Eichen pauses. He watches a large arched window: the only lit window in the entire building.  
"Look, up there." He points to the large window of Derek's loft. Marina squints: a light from within illuminates figures that move around behind the glass.

"I see. How shall we get up there?" She questions. They watch the window for a moment.

"You be Catwoman, if you want to. I'm taking the lift." Eichen gestures to the entrance to the high-rise. Marina shrugs and they pace towards the entrance. Once inside, Marina and Eichen cautiously creep along the empty corridors of the high-rise: tip-toeing silently. They reach a rickety metal staircase leading up to a door, labelled with big maroon capital letters: ROOF. They climb the staircase, the steps clinking and clicking as the soles of Eichen's sneakers and Marina's suede boots tap the metal surface. Swinging the large door open, with a scrape, they glance around. Looking over the edge: Stiles' jeep looks like a miniature toy car from atop the high-rise. Marina taps Eichen's shoulder, she gestures to a ventilation shaft protruding from the roof and turning, forming a right-angle. They pace over to the vent and begin to listen intently.

"So, what's the problem?" Peter questions, perching on Derek's desk with his feet on the chair beneath. "Contrary to popular belief, we werewolves don't just go around tearing peoples entrails out, for no reason, you know?"

"Nice image." Stiles cringes. He turns and drops to the couch behind him. Scott is balanced on the arm next to him.

"If they say they're just passing through, then they probably are just passing through." Peter asserts.

"Listen, Peter, not that I don't value your insight here. But you did go around tearing peoples entrails out." Stiles remarks. "You know, just last year." Scott, Stiles and Derek all stare at Peter, expectantly.

"Well… Yeah, but I had a good reason to… revenge." He throws his arms out indignantly.

"We should be cautious." Derek interjects, leaning against a jagged brick pillar. "After all that's happened around here. Don't provoke them in anyway. Try find a way to keep taps on them."

Marina and Eichen listens to the tinny voices echoing off of the sides of the metal duct. They look at each other.

"Well, this was a bust." Eichen whispers. Marina smiles, calculatingly.

"Maybe not. Now we know there are other werewolves in town, we may be able to use them to aid our cause." She replies. Eichen smiles with her, he nods knowingly.

"I'll focus on finding those butchers. You keep tabs on this cohort down stairs." Eichen nods to the ground. Marina nods in agreement. They turn their attention back to the ventilation duct.

"Alright." Stiles opens his mouth wide and begins to yawn. "You guys might be souped-up with werewolf energy, but I am beat. And we have early lacrosse practice, at school, in the morning." Stiles nods to Scott. As Marina listens, she begins to tap away on her smart phone. She turns the phone to show Eichen, its screen illuminates his pallid face and ash hair.

"The nearest high school is, Beacon Hills High." She whispers. "I'll check it out." Their determined eyes meet. The pair confidently nod. A few minutes later, Eichen perches himself on the corner of the high-rise roof: crouching with his fingers draped over the edge of the roof, balancing him. Marina stands behind him. They watch as Scott, Stiles and Peter speed away in their respective vehicles.

"I'll return tomorrow night, to place a listening device." Marina remarks. Eichen nods.

"We'll need accommodation for our equipment, rent a storage space in town." Eichen replies. Marina holds a set of keys beside Eichen's head, they glint in the moonlight.

"You'll need these." Marina remarks. Eichen slowly clasps the keys. He rises to stand.

"We have work to do, sister dearest. Better get started."


End file.
